


The Afterward

by HappilyShanghaied



Series: Literary Works [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Face-Fucking, Family Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Mommy Issues, Smut, Soft!Dom Juggie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyShanghaied/pseuds/HappilyShanghaied
Summary: Betty felt dirty and couldn’t wait to wash the sins of the evening off her skin. After brushing her teeth, she reached for the shower and turned the lever on, took off her undergarments and stepped into the bath.A shock of cold air hit her just as she finished washing her hair. “Jug?”He was silent at first, so quiet that Betty wondered whether he was still drunk or half-asleep. But, then a hand landed on the outside of the foggy glass door, a solid, muted shape that Betty met with her own.They stood there for a moment, hands perfectly lined-up and pressed together through a sheet of glass, almost touching but not, a perfect metaphor for their current situation. “Jug, please talk to me.”The door slid halfway open and he stepped into the shower, quickly closing it behind him to avoid letting out the steam. “I’m sorry,” He said, looking at the tiled floor, his voice like sandpaper.





	The Afterward

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Readers! Bet you didn't think you'd see this coda so soon? 
> 
> The tone is a little different this time, and there's a time jump.  
> No mystery, no flashbacks, just showing you what happens after 'Happily Ever After'.
> 
> Unbeta'd and probably filled with typos. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Please check out this fantastic [aesthetic](http://jandjsalmon.tumblr.com/post/172831096687/the-afterward-by-happilyshanghaied-11) that jandjsalmon made for this fic!

Betty traced one finger over the rim of her half-empty glass and tried to keep her eyes open. She’d been waiting far too long and her legs were growing numb from the many hours her feet had dangled off the edge of the too-tall, bar stool. Also, there was only so long she could nurse one drink before it became undrinkable.

 

Just as she was about to give up for the evening, a man is a well-tailored suit walked through the door. He was handsome, in his late-30’s, wearing a Wharton insignia ring on his pinky, and had what she’d determined was a ‘cocky resting face’. In short, the type of man who would get a woman drunk just to get her into bed, even if he didn’t have to. He was perfect.

 

Betty angled herself toward the room and crossed her legs, the high slit of her red dress falling open to her mid-thigh. He noticed her instantly, just as she’d predicted.

 

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, sliding into it without waiting for an answer. “I’m Brad.”

 

She gave him a shy smile and extended her hand to shake his. “Selina.”

 

“A pleasure,” Brad said, stopping to check her out in the most indiscreet was imaginable. “You look ready for a top-up.” He signaled the bartender, then pulled a black American Express from his wallet and tossed it on the bar. “I’ll have a Hennessey Privilège straight up, and another of whatever the lady is drinking.”

 

“Vodka martini. Dirty.” Betty spoke in a voice like melted honey. “So, tell me Brad, what’s your line of work?”

 

“Mergers and acquisitions.” He leaned in and his knee brushed against hers. “But you’re not interested in hearing about that, are you?”

 

Betty leaned forward and pressed her lips against his ear, her hand slipping easily into his pocket to pull his keycard. “I’m interested in a lot of things.”

 

Brad pulled back from her, flustered. “Guess it’s my lucky day then, isn’t it?”

 

The bartender placed two drinks in front of them.

 

“It’s certainly mine.” Betty giggled and lifted her drink to her lips.

 

Betty managed, against all odds, to keep the conversation going, at least long enough for the drugs to take effect.

 

Brad bent forward to lean his elbow on the bar and missed. “Oops. God, this drink is strong.”

 

“Is it?” She watched him struggle to keep his eyes open for a moment, then hopped down from the stool. “Will you excuse me for a moment please, Brad. I’ll just be in the ladies' room.”

 

Now too out of it to form proper words, Brad held a hand up to signal his assent.

 

“Be right back.” Betty kissed his cheek and walked toward the restroom.

 

As she turned the corner, a hand grabbed her wrist. “I thought he’d never stop talking.”

 

Betty sighed and handed Toni the key card. “You and me both. One more story about his fucking ski chalet and I probably would’ve shanked myself.”

 

“You’re tougher than you look,” Toni said, pocketing the card. “Get him up to the room and I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”

 

“Next time, you get to be the bait.”

 

“Sure, if you feel like you can successfully get that passed Cheryl, sign me up.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes and turned to head back to the bar. “God, you’re whipped.”

 

“And you’re not?” Toni said, calling after her.

 

* * *

 

By some miracle, Betty was able to wrangle Brad to the elevator and up to one of the guest rooms above the hotel bar. 

 

With one arm propping Brad up, she fumbled with the key card, cursing each time it failed to register a green light. “Are you kidding me?”

 

When the door opened from the inside, Betty took a surprised step back.

 

Jughead took one look at the way she was struggling and laughed. “Is this my competition?”

 

“Ha. Ha.” She rolled her eyes and gently pushed Brad in Jughead’s direction, forcing Jughead to awkwardly catch the man. “Not such a comedian now, are we?”

 

She brushed past her boyfriend, walked straight into the master bedroom of the suite and collapsed backward onto the California king-sized mattress.

 

Jughead kicked the door closed with a grunt, wrangled a near-unconscious Brad on the guest couch and followed her in. He stood in the doorway watching her through hooded lids. “Dammit, Betty, that dress should be illegal in 48 states.”

 

“Only 48?” Betty grinned at the compliment, as he'd been the reason she chose this dress tonight. Though she knew he found her beautiful even when looking her worst, she always got a thrill when something she wore prompted a muttered curse word as she emerged from the bathroom. 

 

He shrugged and entered the room. “I’m fairly certain I’ll never make it to the Dakotas.”

 

Betty stretched out like a cat on the bed with a whimper. 

 

“Rough night?” He asked.

 

“I don’t know which was worse, listening to him over-pronounce the word Gstaad 500 times or hearing him prattle on about the risks of investing in bitcoin currency.” She draped the back of her forearm over her eyes like silent film actress.

 

Jughead flopped on the bed next to her, jostling the mattress. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

 

She flipped to her side and smiled at him. “Nobody’s pretending anything.”

 

He reached forward and absently toyed with the ends of her hair. “Good, because we need that sweet private dick money rolling in, you’ve got to keep me in the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed.”

 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, baby, only a small fraction of these gigs involve corporate espionage. Most of them are just Toni taking pictures of guys trying to fuck a woman other than their wives.”

 

“You mean, trying to fuck  _you_.” Jughead playfully tugged on her hair, mildly disgruntled. “I don’t see why Toni can’t play the honeypot occasionally and let you take the pictures.”

 

The suggestion made Betty laugh. “Oh, you don’t see why? Really?”

 

Jughead scooted closer to her and rested his hand on her hip. “Would it help if I turned into a possessive asshole like Cheryl?”

 

“You are a possessive asshole, Jug, just not the insecure kind who threatens to put arrows in people when they touch your girl.” Betty wasn’t exactly thrilled she had to be the bait all the time, but it was better than trying to reason with Cheryl Blossom, who vociferously and often reminded Betty that she ‘wasn’t into sharing’.

 

Jughead’s hand roamed over Betty’s torso, pausing over her stomach.

 

“Would it help if I knocked you up?” He asked, letting his fingertips dance over her pelvis. “Toni won’t have a choice but to trade places if you can no longer fit into your skin-tight dresses to pick strange men up.”

 

The suggestion caught Betty off guard. They’d been living together for 10 months now and she had no plans on ever leaving, but they’d never talked concretely about their future before, certainly not about having a family. Maybe it was time they had?

 

“Some men are into that,” Betty said, teasing him. “There’s a whole category on Pornhub that only features sex with pregnant women.”

 

The startled expression on Jughead’s face was the best thing she’d seen all week. 

 

“I mean, I’m sure when  _you’re_  pregnant I’ll be very turned on by it, but I don’t really need to see other expectant mothers in flagranté,” He said, looking vaguely twitchy.

 

“ _When_  I’m pregnant?” Her voice rose at the end, equal parts frightened and excited by the proposition.

 

Jughead traced a crescent line under her navel and smiled softly, “You mentioned wanting kids the day we met Baby Emma. I just assumed you meant with me.” 

 

Betty pulled Jughead’s beanie from his head and combed her fingers through his hair. “This magnificence needs to be passed on to future generations.”

 

“Ah, using humor to undercut dramatic tension. I wonder who you picked that up from?” He was quietly frowning, forehead furrowed in thought.

 

“Your seawater eyes,” Betty continued, ignoring his accusation. “Your patrician nose, too.” She ran the tip of her index finger down the bridge of his nose then pressed it into his bottom lip. “And this sinful mouth.” She kissed him softly. “It would be a crime not to have your baby one day.”

 

He looked at her suspiciously, as if he were unsure if she was being serious. His hand remained flat on her stomach, the weight of it a reminder of unanswered questions. “I’m not trying to pressure you. It’s just, the Baptism tomorrow had me thinking about us and the future.”

 

She covered his hand with her own, not wanting him to remove it. “And?”

 

“I always assumed I’d end up alone, like an old crone, never having a family. Now that I have you, I guess I’m feeling…a bit greedy?” He looked away from her, clearly embarrassed. “Also, having a baby would connect us forever.”

 

During the first month they lived together, Jughead was walking on eggshells around her, trying to stay on his best behavior. He looked pleasantly surprised every time she walked in the front door, and every time she left the house he’d kiss her like a soldier going off to war. He eventually began to relax, but Betty suspected part of him would always carry around that particular brand of worry.

 

”I’m not saying that I don’t want one, but we don’t need a baby to connect us forever, Juggie.” She draped an arm over his torso. “You are enough.”

 

The hand still resting on her pelvis tensed before lifting to her face. “Then marry me.”

 

Betty’s mouth fell open at his question, it was the last thing she’d expected to hear tonight. She always assumed one day they would marry, but everything about their relationship so far had been a whirlwind that only recently slowed down. Her feelings for him were never in doubt, and deep down he knew this, so she wasn’t sure what could’ve been prompting his sudden need to make things official with her.

 

When her silence lasted a moment too long, Jughead dropped his hand from her face and abruptly sat up, his lips twisting with concern. “I’m sorry. It was a crazy thing to ask…and, and not the right time at all. I just got swept away.” 

 

Betty quickly pushed herself to sit and grabbed his arm before he could leave the bed. “It’s - it’s not a crazy thing to ask, Juggie, I just wasn’t — where is all of this coming from? Did something happen?”

 

He huffed out a laugh and scratched his forehead. “Yeah, something happened, Betty. I fell in love.”

 

She climbed into his lap to keep him from standing up and looked into the face she’d woken up to for the last year. His brow was creased with stress lines and the dark smudges under his eyes were far more swollen than he normally had after an all-nighter spent writing. She mentally kicked herself for not noticing earlier and wondered how long this specific angst had been brewing. “No. Something else happened, you’re upset.”

 

“Yeah, Betts, I’m upset.” He exhaled roughly through his nose as his worked his jaw. “I’m upset because I asked my girlfriend to marry me and her immediate thought was that my mind must be addled in some way, like the idea of it was ridiculous.”

 

She held his face firmly between her hands to keep him from turning away. “Jughead, I will marry you tomorrow if you can honestly tell me there’s nothing else motivating this.”

 

His eyes flicked up to hers, more vulnerable than ever. Something was very wrong.

 

“I know you,” She whispered, trying her hardest not to spook him. “I know you and I love you, and I’m certain you’re keeping something from me.”

 

Jughead sniffed, then nodded shortly and looked away. “My mother called me.”

 

Betty felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. He’d supported her through a career change and fended off a parental intervention, kissed all of her scars and made her feel whole. But, when he finally needed her, he’d robbed her of that chance. Maybe he didn’t trust her as much as she’d thought? “When?” 

 

He sagged against her hold, letting his head fall forward against her chest. “One week ago. She left a voicemail, said she’d read about my death on the internet and wanted to make sure it was just a hoax.”

 

"This happened a week ago?" She swallowed down the anger she felt about being kept in the dark for so long, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation. 

 

"I couldn't--I didn't want to talk about it."

 

Betty was prepared to let it go, knowing how messed up Jughead was about his mother. She had never hated somebody she never met more. “Why did she call you now?”

 

He shook his head, burrowing into her. “Maybe it took her time to work up the nerve? Maybe she lives in a time warp where news is delayed by nearly a year? Maybe she just didn't really give enough of a shit?”

 

Betty pulled back to look at him. “Maybe she was afraid to know the answer? Afraid it was true?”

 

“My girl, the eternal optimist, except when I really want her to be,” Jughead quipped, sounding slightly bitter about it. 

 

“Jug…” Clearly, on a feeble streak, Betty just stared at him silently, unsure of what else to say. It seemed like every time she opened her mouth she made things worse.

 

He sat up slightly, reached into his inner jacket pocket and produced a small box, placing it in her hand. “I wasn’t asking because of her, I was asking because of you. I’ve been carrying it around with me for months trying to work up the courage. Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought?” He shifted her off his lap and stood up to leave. “Toni should be back in 30 minutes. I need some time to think.”

 

Jughead walked through the inner door, pausing to make sure the man on the couch was still unconscious before leaving the room.

 

Betty sat in the middle of the large mattress, staring at the closed ring box as if it were a live grenade. He genuinely wanted to marry her and she acted as if it were the side effect of an emotional breakdown. She wanted to marry him,  _would_  marry him, despite the short amount of time they’d been together. She just hadn’t wanted to take advantage of his vulnerability and needed to know that he was asking her for the right reasons. 

 

Somehow, despite all of her good intentions, she still managed to royally screw the pooch. “Well, fuck.”

 

* * *

 

 

Betty opened the door to the cabin and locked it behind her, making sure to secure all the deadbolts in place before taking off her shoes. With Penny waiting for arraignment, Jughead had been safe all year, but old habits died hard.

 

She walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, noticed a half-empty whiskey tumbler sitting on the edge of the table and brought it to the sink.

 

“Shit.” Betty drank the rest of the contents and placed the empty glass in the dishwasher. Drinking wasn’t going to help with her migraine, but it might give her the courage she needed to enter her own bedroom that night.

 

Knowing she’d stalled as much as she could, Betty made her way down the hallway and quietly let herself into the bedroom.

 

Jughead was face-down and fully dressed on his side of the bed, presumably asleep, with a mostly empty glass of whiskey on his night side table. Her chest felt heavy, knowing she was the one who put him in this state.

 

What was once burning a hole in his pocket was now burning a hole in hers, so she placed the ring box in the center of her vanity table, then slipped out of her dress, draping it over the back of the chair before heading toward the bathroom.

 

Betty felt dirty and couldn’t wait to wash the sins of the evening off her skin. After brushing her teeth, she reached for the shower and turned the lever on, took off her undergarments and stepped into the bath.

 

A shock of cold air hit her just as she finished washing her hair. “Jug?”

 

He was silent at first, so quiet that Betty wondered whether he was still drunk or half-asleep. But, then a hand landed on the outside of the foggy glass door, a solid, muted shape that Betty met with her own.

 

They stood there for a moment, hands perfectly lined-up and pressed together through a sheet of glass, almost touching but not, a perfect metaphor for their current situation. “Jug, please talk to me.”

 

The door slid halfway open and he stepped into the shower, quickly closing it behind him to avoid letting out the steam. “I’m sorry,” He said, looking at the tiled floor, his voice like sandpaper. 

 

Betty wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him closer. “Don’t apologize. We both could’ve handled that better.”

 

His body was sleep-warm and smelled faintly of whiskey, and she hadn’t realized how badly she needed his embrace until he was against her. He knew, of course. He always knew.

 

Jughead rested his chin on her shoulder. “Did you and Toni get what you needed?”

 

She almost laughed at the question. Even in the midst of a relationship meltdown, he was still thinking of her. “Toni copied his hard drive. We put him in a cab back to his house once he’d roused. I told him he was great in bed.”

 

He smiled against her neck. “I’m glad you came back.”

 

Betty's stomach dropped at his words. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

 

His muscles tensed under her hands, but he didn’t pull away. “Honestly? My track record isn’t the best at predicting these things.”

 

She was suddenly furious with herself.

 

Betty took a calming breath to center her emotions, then pulled back to look at him. His hair was rumpled from the pillow, eyes red-rimmed and tired as if he’d been crying. He’d needed her and she’d done this to him instead. “I don’t ever want to you doubt me. I - I wasn’t saying no to you back in the hotel, I was just...I was surprised.”

 

“I got that much.” He nodded and pushed his hair back from his face. “It wasn’t exactly the way I had it planned in my middle school dream journal.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, amazed at his ability to still be charming in the face of an awkward situation. “I will always come back to you. A ring has no effect on that—”

 

“—believe me, I know,” He said, with a snort. “It definitely didn’t keep my mom around.”

 

He shivered under her hands, so she pulled him under the stream of water with her to warm him up. “Jug, can we talk about her?”

 

His face pinched into a scowl. “I’d rather we didn’t tonight if you don’t mind. I need...I don’t know.”

 

Betty didn’t know either, but she wanted to make him feel better, to distract him from unwelcome thoughts, so she lunged forward and kissed him. 

 

Surprised, Jughead braced himself against the wall to keep them both from sliding. Her hand slipped between his legs and she felt him harden in her grip.

 

He looked down to where she held him and frowned. “Betty you don’t—” 

 

She kissed him again to keep him from speaking. “Let me touch you. I want to make you feel good. Please?”

 

He swallowed thickly and then nodded. 

 

Betty kissed him again and then sunk to her knees, thankful she’d made them invest in a gel mat. As her hand passed over his skin, she found herself amazed at how addicted she’d become to him. Just the thought of being with him now, like this, seemed to lift a weight from her mind. She leaned forward and licked the head of his cock, smiling when she pulled a groan from him.

 

His hands fell to her hair. “Betty…”

 

Taking him into her mouth, she closed her eyes as he slid to the back of her throat. She loved doing this, losing herself to the physical sensation. Everything seemed so much clearer in her brain once she was able to get out of her head.

 

His fingers twisted in her hair and she looked up at him, silently giving him permission to take what he needed.

 

Jughead moaned as he thrust into her mouth, shallowly at first, before pushing his cock down the length of her throat, pressing her nose into his groin.

 

Her hands gripped the back of his ass as her mind went blank.

 

“Shit,” He hissed, pulling out halfway before sliding into her again. “You feel too good.”

 

Betty dropped one hand down to his balls to tugged them lightly, and Jughead’s fingers tightened in her hair.

 

They built up a rhythm, as he snapped his hips against her jaw, intermittently holding her face against his pelvis until she gasped for air. Her hand pressed down to relieve the ache between her legs as his palm wrapped around her neck.

 

“I can feel myself bulging your throat,” He gasped, pressing himself inside of her again while tightening his fingers. “Oh, fuck. I’m close.”

 

Betty let him take control of his pleasure and rubbed herself harder, the lack of air making her deliciously dizzy. Her thighs started to shake as she neared the edge, one hand gripping his ass for support as his thrusts sped up and his breathing grew ragged.

 

“I’m - fuck!” Her lips were stretched wide around him, nose buried in his pelvis, hair pulled painfully tight as he quivered in her mouth, spilling down her throat with a low groan. She followed him a moment later.

 

He released her hair slowly and sank to the mat in front of her, a dazed look on his face. “Thank you.”

 

Her hand gripped his arm for stability as her breathing returned to normal.

 

Jughead pulled her into his lap and wrapped his long limbs around her, cradling her head against his neck. “Betts…”

 

Betty felt his chest rumble beneath her as he sobbed and kissed her hair. Her throat was still too raw to speak but she reached up and gently touched his cheek, a mixture of both his tears and water flowing over her fingers.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, baby, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You’ve been perfect. It’s me, these are my problems.” He squeezed her body harder aginst his.

 

“Your problems are my problems,” She whispered, kissing his neck. 

 

They remained huddled on the floor of the shower until the water ran cold.

 

* * *

 

The ring sat in the middle of the vanity, untouched, as they milled around getting ready for the baptism.

 

Betty wore her white dress from the rehearsal dinner at Veronica's insistence, and the irony - the church, the white dress - wasn’t lost on her.

 

Without her having to ask, Jughead zipped the back of her dress, his knuckles dragging up her spine as the material closed. 

 

“You were wearing this dress when I fell in love with you,” He said casually like it wasn’t a ridiculously romantic thing to tell a woman.

 

Betty smiled and did a little twirl. “Enjoy it now, because Emma is probably going to spit up all over it in a few hours.”

 

Jughead shrugged as he struggled with his tie. “I prefer you naked, anyway.”

 

"Come here with that thing." She manhandled him into her vanity chair and wrapped her arms around him from behind, tying his knot the way her father once taught her when he'd broken his wrist. She assumed F.P. hadn’t worn ties often enough to have an opportunity to teach his own son.

 

Jughead looked at her reflection in the mirror, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “You know, you having to do my tie for me would be really sad and embarrassing if it weren’t so goddamn hot.”

 

She smoothed the material down and fastened the clip around it. “I like that you're a total mess. Gives me an excuse to put my hands all over you.”

 

He held her arms to keep her there. “You never need an excuse.”

 

Betty kissed his cheek and detangled herself from his hold. “If we’re not there early, Veronica is going to kill us both. Emma’s reflux has kept her awake and V is cranky and sleep-deprived.”

 

“Arch has been like a zombie lately, too,” Jughead said, slipping on his shoes. “Maybe kids are more trouble than they’re worth?”

 

He grabbed his keys off the top of the dresser and exited the bedroom, leaving Betty feeling unsettled.

 

* * *

 

Jughead and Betty were on program duty as guests filed into the church. In true Lodge fashion, the interior had been remodeled to fit the occasion, large bouquets of summer flowers graced the aisle dotting each pew, and a small children’s choir sang Spanish lullabies as guests filtered into their seats.

 

Betty had chosen to wear low heels for the occasion, knowing how long she would likely be on her feet, but every wave of guests made way for another and she feared they would never stop coming.

 

“How do they even know this many people?” Jughead scowled at the guests (something Veronica had warned him not to do), which sent many of them fleeing for Betty’s side of the aisle. “It’s like they bought the county census and just sent blanket invitations to everybody within a ten-mile radius.”

 

When the flow of guests slowed to a trickle, Betty grabbed the programs from Jughead’s hands and stacked them on top of hers, leaving the entire pile on a table near the entrance. “I can’t. I can’t do one more. It may physically kill me.”

 

“Same.”

 

She tugged on Jughead’s hand, pulling him outside into the front lawn, then tipped her head back and arched toward the sunlight. “Oh my God, I wasn’t even sure it was still daytime outside. Time moves like it does in a casino in there.”

 

Betty could feel his eyes on her.

 

“This entire production is like the world’s best birth control,” He deadpanned, still holding one of her hands. 

 

Her head snapped up at the comment. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

 

His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Do what?”

 

“Keep saying—keep making comments about how great it is we don’t have kids.” Her heart was beating rapidly in anger, practically pounding a hole through her rib cage.

 

“When did I say that?”

 

Betty frowned, her hands curled into fists pressing into her hips. “Just now, about this party being birth control. And back at the house, when you said kids were more trouble than they’re worth.”

 

Jughead’s fingers found the end of his tie and he began to fiddle nervously with it. “You shouldn’t take anything I say seriously, Betty.”

 

“I take  _everything_  you say seriously.”

 

“Yeah, I know, and it’s fucking exhausting.”

 

“What?” Betty took a step back from him, unused to him speaking to her like that.

 

“You’re always trying to manage me like I’m some kind of—of ‘project’.” Jughead lifted his hands into air quotes. “I’m not something you can fix like one of your daddy’s old clunkers, Betty.”

 

“I don’t—”

 

“You  _do!_  And there are times I dread coming home to you because of it.” His face dropped the moment the words left his lips like he knew it was wrong, but he was too proud of a man to take them back.

 

If he’d slapped her, it would’ve hurt less.

 

“You don’t — I don’t want that, to be where I’m not appreciated. If it’s such a hardship living with me I can always go.” Betty turned around and stormed off, willing herself not to cry in front of all the guests.

 

She knew he didn’t mean what he said, that he was trying to push her away, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Maybe he was right? Maybe she was treating him like one of her father’s old cars? Maybe she needed to back off and let him handle things the way he always did?

 

* * *

 

Betty was nearly to the side entrance door when she turned and almost slammed into somebody.

 

“Woah, Betty! Where’s the fire?” F.P. asked, catching her in his arms before she hit the outer wall of the church. His expression changed the moment he saw her face. “What happened? It’s not Jug—?”

 

“No,” She said, feeling terrible for worrying him. “At least, not like that. He’s safe.”

 

F.P. held her at arm's length and dipped his head to make eye contact with her, then sighed heavily. “Oh shit. He’s fucking things up, isn’t he? It was only a matter of time, I suppose.” He dropped his arms and brought a hand up to scratch his head, looking remarkably like his son when he was distressed. “Whatever he did or said - and I’m sure it was a doozy - he didn’t mean it. He loves you, Betty. He tells anybody who will listen how lucky he is.”

 

Betty didn’t doubt any of this was true, but she couldn’t help hearing the echo of Jughead’s words in her head, telling her he avoided going home to her. “He hasn’t been himself lately. Or maybe he’s been too much himself? I don’t know.”

 

F.P. shot her a somber look. “This is about his mom, right?”

 

It didn't surprise Betty that he knew, she assumed he'd been her source of Jughead's information breach. “Did you give her his number?”

 

“I did, and I shouldn’t have…or I should have warned him at least that she might be calling. I honestly didn’t think she’d go through with it. She'd waited ten years, why would she start giving a shit now?” He shook his head, looking guilty and dejected.

 

Betty should have been mad, but they were all in the same, sinking boat now and it didn’t matter who caused the leak. “She left him a voice message and it’s messing with his head. He’s probably played it 50 times this week.”

 

F.P. cursed under his breath. “I know what he’s like and what an asshole he can be, he gets that from his old man, but promise me you won’t do anything rash, Betty. Even if he does.”

 

Betty stared at his hopeful expression and nodded. If there was one thing Betty Cooper was  _not_ , it was a quitter.

 

He exhaled with relief. “You’re the best thing that happened to him. I’ve never seen him so happy.”

 

Betty tried to force a smile to placate his fears. “I was happy, too.”

 

“Just try and remember that, okay? We’ll figure it out together…as a family.” F.P. bucked the underside of her chin with his finger and walked off, most likely to look for his son.

 

“Betty!” Veronica shrieked from the open doorway, barely giving her a moment to breathe. “Where the hell have you been? We’re starting the ceremony in a minute.”

 

”Oh.” Betty brushed the wrinkles from her dress, put on her best ‘Alice Cooper smile’, and followed her best friend into the church.

 

* * *

 

 

The ceremony was lovely if a bit melodramatic, but Veronica was radiant and Betty had never seen a new father as proud as Archie. Though Jughead was a constant presence at her side,  Betty had successfully avoided making eye contact with him during the ceremony, preferring instead to focus on the adorable child in her arms. 

 

Emma really was a beautiful baby, the perfect mix of Veronica and Archie, with a shock of black hair covering her downy head. It was hard for Betty to focus, but when Emma grabbed a hold of Betty’s finger and brought it to her mouth with one of her impossibly small hands, Betty felt her mood lighten. There were certain elemental things that were pure and uncomplicated and letting a squirmy, five-month-old girl use your finger as a teething toy was one of them.

 

* * *

 

Betty and Jughead stood in the back garden of the church with the baby in their arms, enduring a never-ending photo shoot. The photographer motioned for Veronica and Archie to join them for the next set-up, flanking them on either side.

 

“Okay, now that the ceremony is over, which one of you wants to tell me what the fuck is going on between the two of you?” Veronica asked, her wide smile never faltering once despite the subject matter.

 

“Ronnie—!” Archie gasped at his wife’s brazen question, though Betty thought he really should expect this kind of thing by now. 

 

“Oh sure,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes, “Let’s all pretend Betty and ‘East of Eden’ over here weren’t aggressively avoiding eye contact during the entire ceremony.”

 

“This isn’t our business, Ron,” Archie warned, in an uncharacteristic display of authority. “Let them work things out for themselves.”

 

Veronica turned and snapped a finger at her husband. “A-ha! So you  _do_  admit something is hinky in Bugsville⁈”

 

“Obviously!” Archie gestured to the larger than normal space between Betty and Jughead. “I’m not blind, honey!”

 

Jughead cleared this throat and handed Archie the sleeping baby. “As fun as this _isn’t_ , I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He glanced at Betty through the corner of his eye and corrected himself. “I have, at least.”

 

“I’ve had enough, too.” Betty leaned over and kissed the top of Emma’s head, taking a moment to sniff her sweet, powdered skin. She straightened up and then looked at Jughead timidly. “Shall we head home?”

 

Jughead’s shoulders sagged visibly with relief as if somebody had let the air out of a tire. 

 

“I would like that, Betty,” He said, earnestly, his hand reaching out to hers.

 

She tentatively placed her hand in his, but the atmosphere still felt awkward between them.

 

It was good enough for Veronica though, who squealed her approval. “Thank God! I know he’s a pain in the ass, Betty, but he really does have a good heart. I'm also not quite sure who else we could pawn him off on.”

 

Jughead rolled his eyes and Betty struggled not to laugh.

 

“I told you they would be fine,” Archie mumbled, much less concerned with the state of his friends’ relationship.

 

“Brunch Sunday?” Betty asked Veronica, stalling their exit to buy some time. She knew Jughead and she needed to have a serious talk, but she would have been lying if she didn't admit she was dreading it.

 

“Yes, Betty, brunch on Sunday -- same as it is every single week.” Veronica shot her a knowing look then leaned into Archie's space, lifted her sleeping child’s hand to wave at them, and began speaking in a creepy baby voice. “Goodbye, my angst-ridden godmommy and goddaddy. There’s nothing that can’t be solved with a chilled bottle of Bollinger and a really dark corner.”

 

Jughead seemed both repelled and amused by the charade. "Emma's got a real handle on gender politics, Ronnie. You might want to get her tested for the gifted program."

 

"Ha Ha, Forsythe. I don't need a test to know my daughter is a genius!" Veronica yelled at them as they walked away.

 

* * *

 

Betty and Jughead had been silent the entire way home in the car, an unspoken agreement that their conversation was too big to have on the road.

 

They’d gotten as far as the living room when one of them finally spoke.

 

“I have no excuse,” Jughead said, quietly, as he sat next to the empty fireplace. “There's no excuse for the way I spoke to you. Sometimes it just feels easier to push you away, less painful.”

 

“Less painful than what?” Betty asked, sitting down next to him.

 

His head dropped into his hands, elbows braced on his knees and he took a long pause before he spoke again. “Less painful than if I didn’t...for when you leave me.”

 

Betty scoffed. If there was anything she hated it was being told how she should feel. “And what if I don’t want to leave you?”

 

His head picked up, a cruel smile on his face. “You will.”

 

Betty leaned across his lap and roughly pulled his phone from his back pocket, before pressing into his hand. “Delete the message. Either call her back right now or delete it. It’s time for this Schrödinger’s mom bullshit to end.”

 

Jughead looked at the phone in his hand as if it were a foreign object. “I can’t.”

 

“You  _can_.” Betty insisted closing her hand around his. “Either you’re going to do it or I am, but this is being dealt with right now.”

 

He looked down at the phone and scrolled through his voice mail messages, his finger hovering over the unlabeled number, then glanced up at her with hesitation. "Betty..."

 

“What do you want to do, Jughead?” Betty asked, coaxing him with a gentle voice. "If you want to call her, I will support you and we will get through it together as a family, but you don't have to call her. You're not obligated to let her back into your life just because she wants you to. The choice is up to you." 

 

Jughead stared at the phone like he was trying to find an answer hidden within the pixels.

 

“If this is the havoc she’s managed to wreck with one measly voicemail, I don’t need her in my life.” His finger slid left over the message and it vanished from the list. He blinked at the blank space where the message used to be, then looked up at Betty while laughing in disbelief. “I already feel a lot better. Thank you.” He pocketed the phone again and reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I didn’t mean any of what I said before to you, Betts. Not a word of it. There is never even one moment I’m not beyond grateful that I get to come home to you.”

 

”I know that.” Betty abruptly stood up and patted his shoulder. “Wait here.”

 

"Betty?"

 

She marched down the hallway of their home together, into their shared bedroom, crossed the room to her vanity table and grabbed the ring box off the desk. He'd proven to her how committed he was to their relationship today and she was going to prove her commitment to him now.

 

By the time she returned to the living room, Jughead was already on his feet. “Baby, what—?”

 

She held the box out to him. “Ask me again.”

 

Jughead was stunned for a moment, stuck in place, then snapped out of his haze and closed the distance between them in two long strides. "Hell yes."

 

Before Betty could explain herself he kissed her so hard her feet momentarily left the ground. "Jug--"

 

“I can’t begin to describe my love for you in words - and you know I’ve tried - there are no words that can capture the way I feel about you.” He took a deep breath and pushed forward, grabbing her hand a little too tightly. “For whatever reason, you’ve decided that I’m somebody worth loving, and I promise you I will do my best to make you feel loved, too.”

 

“Jughead...”

 

”Marry me, Betty Cooper. Please, marry me.”

 

The intensity behind his eyes momentarily stopped her in her tracks, but she rebounded quickly, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "Of course I will."

 

He opened the small box and Betty gasped at the ring inside. It was beautiful, perfect, exactly what she would have picked out for herself. As always, he knew her mind as well as she did. She slipped the ring onto her finger and held it up for him to see. "I'm wearing our future."

 

Jughead laughed and kissed her hand. "Yes, Betty, you are."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Hope you liked it, even though it was a bit different from the original fic.
> 
> As always, if you have time and energy, please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Feedback is gold!
> 
> Thanks again for reading :)


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